My love for a dog: in praise of Tess

Photographer and journalist David Corfield reflects on his life with Tess, a Border Collie who has enriched and changed his life, bringing him closer to the things that matter...

There are some relationships in life that don’t need explanation, justification, or even words. They simply exist – quietly, loyally, and with a kind of constancy that feels almost otherworldly. My bond with my dog, Tess, is one of those rare relationships. She will be nine years old this coming May, and yet it feels like only yesterday that I first knew her – small enough to fit in my hands, her world still new and uncertain.

I met Tess when she was just four weeks old. At that age, puppies are still discovering everything – their legs, their siblings, the strange and fascinating world beyond their mother. Even then, there was something about her. Maybe it was the way she watched rather than rushed forward, or how she seemed to pause before reacting, as if she were already thinking things through. Border Collies are known for their intelligence, but Tess always felt like something more than that – something deeply aware.

When I brought her home with my eldest son Joe, at eight weeks old, everything changed. It wasn’t dramatic or sudden; it was quiet, like a shift in the air. The house felt fuller. The days felt more structured. And somehow, even in those early weeks of chewed shoes and restless nights, life felt better anchored. She wasn’t just a pet – I could feel, even then, that she would become something far more important.

Over the years, Tess has become my constant companion in every sense of the word. She has been there through ordinary days and extraordinary ones, through moments of calm and periods of chaos. There is a comfort in her presence that’s difficult to put into words. It’s not just that she’s there – it’s how she’s there. Attentive without being intrusive. Loyal without demanding anything in return.

One of the things that defines our relationship is the way we explore the world together. Tess has been with me on countless road trips, each one its own little adventure. There’s something uniquely freeing about having a dog beside you on a long drive. No expectations, no complaints – just quiet companionship. She watches the world go by with a calm curiosity, occasionally lifting her head as if to take in a new scent or sound, reminding me to do the same.

Then there are the treks – the long walks up hills and mountains, camera in hand, chasing light and perspective. Those moments are some of my favourites. There’s a rhythm to walking with Tess that feels almost meditative. She moves with purpose but never rushes, always aware of where I am, always ahead and checking back. It’s a kind of silent communication, built over years, that doesn’t need reinforcement.

In those wide, open spaces, something shifts. The noise of everyday life fades, and what remains is something simpler and more honest. Tess seems completely at home in those environments. Watching her move through tall grass or along a rocky path, it’s clear that she is exactly where she’s meant to be. And somehow, being with her there makes me feel the same.

Photography has always been an important part of my life, and Tess has been there for much of it in her nine years. She has sat patiently while I waited for the perfect light, stood quietly while I adjusted settings, and occasionally wandered into frame, unintentionally becoming part of the story I was trying to capture. In many ways, she has shaped the way I see the world in the last decade – not just as a subject, but as a presence that reminds me to slow down and notice things.

But it’s not just the adventures that define our bond. It’s the everyday moments – the quiet evenings, the routines, the small gestures. The way she settles nearby, never too far away. The way she seems to sense when something isn’t quite right and stays closer than usual. Dogs have a way of understanding us that goes beyond logic, and Tess embodies that completely.

Her love is steady and unwavering. It doesn’t fluctuate based on circumstances or moods. It doesn’t require explanation or validation. It simply exists, constant and reliable. And in my world that often feels unpredictable and overwhelming, that kind of love is incredibly grounding.

There have been times in my life when things felt uncertain or difficult – times when it was hard to find balance or clarity. Through all of it, Tess has been there. Not offering solutions or advice, but offering something just as valuable: presence. There’s something profoundly comforting about knowing that no matter what’s happening, there’s a living being who is simply glad that you’re there.

It’s easy to underestimate how important that kind of connection is. We often look for meaning in big, dramatic experiences, but sometimes it’s found in something much quieter. In a glance, a shared moment, or the simple act of walking side by side.

As Tess approaches her ninth birthday, I find myself thinking more about time – how quickly it passes, how easily moments slip by unnoticed. Nine years feels like both a long time and no time at all. She is older now, a little slower than she used to be, but no less present. If anything, there’s a depth to her now that comes only with time.

There’s a certain bittersweet awareness that comes with loving a dog. You know, from the very beginning, that your time together is limited. But rather than diminishing the experience, that knowledge seems to deepen it. It makes the moments matter more. It makes the connection feel even more significant.

Tess has given me so much more than companionship. She has given me perspective. She has taught me patience, consistency, and the value of simply being present. She has shown me that love doesn’t need to be complicated to be profound.

If I had to describe what she means to me in the simplest terms, I would say this: she is the glue that keeps me together. Not in a dramatic or overwhelming way, but in the quiet, steady way that truly matters. She is a constant in a world that is always changing. And perhaps that’s what makes her so special. She doesn’t try to be anything other than what she is. There’s an honesty in that – a purity that’s rare and incredibly grounding.

When I look back on the years we’ve shared – the road trips, the mountain paths, the countless ordinary days – I don’t just see memories. I see a life shaped, in part, by her presence. A life made richer, calmer, and more meaningful because she’s been in it.

Nine years. It doesn’t feel like enough, and it never will. But it’s what we have, and it’s been extraordinary in its own quiet way. And through it all, Tess has been there – steady, loyal, and endlessly present. I can’t imagine my life without her. And I don’t think I ever truly will, because in so many ways, she’s become part of who I am.